


Midnight on the Water

by Luka



Series: Every Man is a King [1]
Category: Rugby RPF, Rugby Union RPF
Genre: Closeted Character, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-11
Updated: 2019-08-11
Packaged: 2020-08-19 06:57:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,854
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20205598
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luka/pseuds/Luka
Summary: George's world has fallen apart - but there's support from a friend when he needs it the most.





	Midnight on the Water

**Author's Note:**

> This is a world away from my ongoing We're A Team series. I've no idea where it sprang from.

“Georgie … I know you’ll understand … I mean, if we weren’t who we are, it could all be different … But everything we’ve worked for … Our careers. We can’t put those at risk. You and me, we’ll always be … Always. But you know how much I want kids …”

And that last sentence is the killer, something he can never give Owen. And it’s why Owen’s getting married to another Georgie. Pretty, smiling, blonde female Georgie.

***

He goes to the wedding. When it comes down to it, he has no choice. He’s one of Owen’s oldest and closest friends. And people would wonder if he didn’t turn up. So he chats and smiles and tries to put out of his mind everything he and Owen have shared in the past. From now on, he will only ever be able to look and not to touch. And inside, a little part of him dies.

***

Most of the time he can try to pretend it all never happened. He and Owen work together in training and on the pitch as they’ve always done. It’s just off the field that they’re like strangers, even though they put on a good act when they chat over coffee or bicker companionably about rugby league. So he concentrates on the season - his 50th cap and leading England against Japan, dealing with the heartbreak of spending most of the Six Nations on the bench, throwing himself blindly into saving Leicester from the drop. But the pain is almost unbearable when he sees Owen beaming over baby Tommy.

It’s Henry who sees through his elaborate act. Quiet, laidback Henry, who’s always been a mate, but never a very close one. At the end of the season, when George is seriously thinking about a move to rugby league and a new start far away from the searingly painful memories, Henry, who’s roomed with him during the Six Nations, invites him to Devon for a long weekend. George stares around his immaculate, soulless house and runs his finger along a mantelpiece where no dust exists. There’s nothing to keep him here.

***

Henry’s house is elegant, uncluttered and comfortable. And George receives an effusive welcome from Frank the seriously cute dog. He squats down to stroke him, and is rewarded with a kiss on the nose.

“You’ve made a friend for life there,” says Henry, adding his own hug. George isn’t sure, but he doesn’t think he’s imagined a gentle kiss on the top of his head.

“He’s a handsome lad. And thanks for inviting me.” George is disorientated and tongue-tied. He feels rumpled and overdressed in a shirt and jeans. Henry’s wearing a T-shirt and shorts, and George tries not to stare at his long, smooth, tanned limbs.

If Henry notices, he doesn’t say anything. Instead he brews some tea and they go out into the garden to drink it.

“I don’t know what you fancy doing the next few days,” says Henry. “Most of the lads are around, so we can go to the beach or go out on the boat or go out walking, or all three if you want. Nowellsy’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“How’s he doing?” George had feared for the winger’s World Cup hopes the moment he’d seen Jack’s injury during the Premiership final.

“Going stir-crazy. But he seems to be making progress.”

“Good.”

“I said we’d meet him and some of the others for a meal at the pub later. Is that OK with you?”

George nods.

“The lads are looking forward to having a new playmate! So we’ve convened a special weekend meeting of the dog-walking club tomorrow morning!”

And finally George smiles. “I’m honoured!” he says.

***

He’s seen all the photos on Instagram, and always envied the Exeter lads their closeness. He remembers seeing Henry say in an interview that it’s like being with all your best mates. George likes his Tigers teammates well enough but with the exception of Jonny he never feels close to any of them – they all seem immersed in their families off the pitch. Exeter had made enquiries about George when he left Bath, and for once in his life he allows himself a ‘what if …’

***  


The Chiefs lads genuinely seem pleased to see him. They eat out at a country pub on Friday night, and George is sitting next to Matt Kvesic, who he knows well from England age group days. It’s a lively gathering, masterminded by Jack, who’s hobbling around but still in irrepressible form. And they all know George well enough not to expect him to be the life and soul of any party. 

He has the best night’s sleep in months and is woken just after 8am by Henry, dressed in just a pair of shorts, bringing him a mug of tea. Frank leaps onto the bed to claim a cuddle, snuffling happily as George makes a fuss of him. And Frank insists on sticking to George’s side as the dog-walking club tramp across the fields and then hole up for the afternoon in a rural pub. They all seem so relaxed and easy together, and it hurts as George realises just how few close friends he has.

“OK?” Henry passes him a refill and snitches the last chip off George’s plate.

George nods and smiles. “It’s great. Thanks for inviting me, mate.”

He’s not sure that Henry is fooled, though.

***

The beach is small and private, and clearly a favourite of the Chiefs lads. They’re all stripped down to their swimming trunks within minutes, and happily fooling around in the sea. George is a lousy swimmer and not very keen on anything outside of a heated swimming pool. And even though he knows realistically that he’s in good shape, he feels out of place with his pale body and baggy shorts. Henry, who has an awesome tan, looks fabulous in a pair of brightly coloured trunks. George finds Jack’s tattoos too much, but the lad has a great body. Comments to the two of them about budgie smugglers are greeted with the finger from Henry and Jack’s usual back-chat.

They stretch out on rugs to play cards. Without asking, Henry picks up the sun cream and rubs it into George’s back and chest. “You need to keep topping it up,” he says severely. 

George nods obediently. And the feeling of those long fingers across his torso makes him shiver. 

***

The conversation happens on the Monday morning when they’re out walking Frank. They sit down on a bench and survey the view over Exeter and beyond.

“Owen’s broken your heart, hasn’t he?” says Henry quietly.

George bites his lip and looks away. Eventually he nods.

“How long had you …?”

“Almost for ever,” says George simply. “But I always knew we’d never … He’d never risk his career. And he’s always wanted kids.”

Henry slides his arm around George’s waist. And it feels OK, kind of comfortable. 

“How long have you known?” asks George. “I mean, we’ve never said anything to anyone, not even our families.” And there’s a sudden, searing pain as he realises just how much it’s hurt to keep such a key part of himself secret for so long.

“I’ve wondered for a while. The way you looked at him, how you were always easy in each other’s space.”

“Has anyone else …?”

“I don’t think so. Or if they have, they haven’t said anything. You know how fast gossip spreads …”

George nods. The England squad take a very keen and unhealthy interest in each other’s love lives.

“Would you have come out if he’d asked you to?”

“Yes, I would,” says George without hesitation. “I’m not ashamed of being gay. But it was never going to happen.”

“You poor kid,” says Henry softly, pulling George closer to him. 

And this time there’s no doubt about the kiss to the top of his head. George, who has never once let his personal emotions slip to a teammate, buries his face in the join of Henry’s neck and shoulder. He’s actually three days older than Henry – they’ve enjoyed a load of shared birthday celebrations in the England camp – but after so many years of being the leader and in charge of things, it feels surprisingly OK to let someone hold him.

Eventually he sits up, and it’s then, when he see the look in Henry’s eyes, that he realises. “I didn’t know you … How long …?”

“Pretty much since the first time I met you,” says Henry. “I was sure you’d never notice. And no one in their right mind would choose a scrawny thing like me over Faz!”

“Don’t say that!” says George fiercely, wrapping his arms around Henry. “You’re absolutely gorgeous.” 

And he realises he means it. And the smile on Henry’s face is reward enough.

***

The long weekend turns into three idyllic weeks. George texts Jonny and also his family to tell them where he is, but realises he hasn’t missed his own house once - and he doubts anyone has really missed him. He and Henry have fallen into an easy routine of dog-walking, sitting in coffee shops and watching the world go by, and spending time with the Chiefs lads who make him feel like he’s part of their gang. They either eat out in the evening, or George, who’s a reasonable cook, produces a meal for them in Henry’s pristine kitchen.

And they’re sharing a bed. George still can’t quite believe it. They feel so good and so right together. It’s warm and relaxed and they laugh a lot. It’s all a world away from his and Owen’s brief, intense couplings.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile properly before,” says Henry.

“You make me happy,” says George, realising he’s gone bright red. The smile and the lingering kiss he’s rewarded with warms him from head to toe. 

***

He knows he’s got to go home for pre-season training. Henry has another two weeks of his break left. And George hears himself saying: “Do you and Frank want to come back with me for a week or so? Once training’s over there are loads of places we can go for a walk and some nice pubs by the canal … No worries if not …”

“We’d love that, wouldn’t we, Frankie?” And the dog appears to be nodding vigorously.

And George realises this will be the first time that anyone has stayed with him apart from his family and those brief, furtive visits from Owen. He’s suddenly not worried either by the thought of a dog’s muddy paws tramping through his perfect house. 

They haven’t talked yet about telling anyone - it’s all too new and unfamiliar for that. So George isn’t sure whether he’s reading too much into it when he finds himself sitting next to Jack on the boat during the last day trip on the Friday. The scenery is beautiful and everything is so relaxed, and George knows that he’ll remember this holiday for ever.

“So Sladey’s off to stay with you for a week or so?”

George nods.

“Good. Guard him well, won’t you?”

And George nods again, catching Henry’s eye. “You bet I will.”


End file.
